Kushiel's Chosen

"If there is not, then there is not," I said equitably. "There is another option where this talk of marriage is concerned, and you know it as well as I. If I were to declare you my consort, by D'Angeline law, that is binding. So it was before, and even the Queen acknowledged it. The Stregazza will abide by that without ill-will, they know the ways of Terre d'Ange. It is you who have closed that door, not I.”



"Ican't!" This time, the shudder that wracked him was profound. Clenching his fists, Joscelin turned to stare at me, wild-eyed. "To think of you, on your knees to the likes of that, that overgrown juvenile, Phèdre, it sickens me! And don't tell me you weren't, because I know you, I know you were. It was all the talk of the City, how for twenty thousand ducats Phèdre nó Delaunay made a man of the grandson of Prince Benedicte and the Doge of La Serenissima!"



I do not anger easily, but somehow, Joscelin Verreuil has ever had the trick of it. I stared back at him coldly, and answered colder. "A pity," I said contemptuously, "I could not do the same for you."



It was enough and more to send him storming out of our rented house, and I sat as coolly as if the broken shards of my heart were not grinding each other to bits and watched him go, knowing, of a surety, where he went. Ten centuries later, the blood of Yeshua ben Yosef was claiming its due. And he shall carve out the way before you, and his blades shall shine like a star in his hands. Joscelin had heard it, and so had I; what were the whims of a single Servant of Naamah against the will of an entire people?



Whatever they believed of him, it was true, I thought; when Joscelin made ready to defend with his daggers bared and crossed, they really did shine like a star in his hands.



"My lady," Leonora said tremulously; she had caught the tail end of our exchange. Though we had spoken in D'Angeline, the sense of it needed no translation. "There is, um, another message from my lord Severio Stregazza."



She proffered his letter on a silver salver; I took it impatiently and cracked the wax seal, scanning the contents. Severio, it seemed, thought I might be amused by touring the Temple of Asherat; indeed, he had taken the liberty of arranging an audience with the Sovereign Priestess at an hour past noon.



Well, as it happened, I did find the notion amusing; moreover, I found it intriguing. I have ever been curious about the faith of other peoples, and this was a chance to experience it firsthand; and, too, I was curious about this Oracle.



At any rate, it was better than moping alone in my chambers. Beginning to know my ways, Leonora had brought a pen and inkwell, and I dipped the pen recklessly, scrawling ì hasty reply-although, I must add, only an astute observer would have known my mood and the speed with which I answered.



When the appointed hour arrived, I descended the stairs from my balcony unaccompanied. Severio did not fail to note it, rising to his feet and rocking the craft; a simple gondola today, and not the gilded bissone. Only a few of his Immortali were in attendance. "No Cassiline chaperone?" he cried, spreading his arms. "My lady, your trust heartens me!"



"Be worthy of it, my lord," I said, stepping into the vessel. "I have placed my honor in the keeping of the Immortali; I pray they will not fail me."



"Not a chance," retorted Benito Dandi, manning the tiller with a sharp eye as we surged into the water traffic of the Great Canal. "In fact, we took a vote, to elect you to the rank of compagne, my lady, for holding your ground in a skirmish. Severio may be our prior, but it took two councillos, the secretary and the notary to pass this motion. Now he impugns you at his own expense."



For all of that, Severio looked delighted, and for his sake, I accepted the honor with good will. Joscelin would be upset that I had gone out without a D'Angeline guard, but then, Joscelin was already upset. And I did not think I erred in my estimation of Severio's character. Rude he might be, by our standards, but wise enough to know that what he desired of me could only be given freely. If I was not safe with Severio and his Immortali, I was not safe anywhere in La Serenissima.



A light rain had fallen early that morning, and the Square glistened like a vast mirror. Severio and I went alone into the Temple of Asherat, while his comrades lounged outside, idly baiting the impassive eunuchs who stood guard at the doors. I must confess, Asherat's Temple was a splendid place.



There is not much painting in La Serenissima, but they are skilled at the art of mosaic. The vast antechamber of the Temple was filled with tiled images, exquisitely rendered. A veiled priestess, young and slender, wearing the white robes of an acolyte, assisted us in removing our shoes and washing our hands in the ritual basin. Afterward, we wandered the antechamber and Severio pointed out to me the various images of Asherat. My favorite was an Ephesian image that showed the goddess erect and gracious, holding fronds of date palms in both hands, flanked by an ass and a bull. In La Serenissima, they worship her as Asherat-of-the-Sea and the Dea Coelestis, the Tiberian Queen of Heaven, but she is an ancient goddess and has taken many forms.



"There she is grieving her son Eshmun." Severio pointed to a mosaic that depicted Asherat kneeling over a male figure in a field of scarlet flowers. I did not like it so well as the others, in part because the lines lacked the fluidity necessary to make the scene poignant, and in part because it reminded me of La Dolorosa, the black isle. "And there is the Peace of Asherat and Baal-Jupiter, which they made when the people implored them."



"A terrible story." I shivered. "We passed La Dolorosa on our way here."



"The place of no hope." There was an edge to his voice. "That's what the shorefolk call it. Grandfather Benedicte wanted my aunt Thérèse imprisoned there, when it was found she was complicit in the poisoning of Isabel de la Courcel."



"Is she?" Awful as the crime was, I couldn't help but be disturbed.



"No." He shook his head. "The Stregazza rose up in arms at the prospect. That's probably when this whole quarrel began. She's banished to the Villa Conforti, which is an island prison of sorts for disgraced nobility." He grinned. "Actually, I'm told it's quite pleasant. Nonetheless, she's bound not to leave its shores while she lives.”



I thought of Hyacinthe, and could not muster an answering smile. Sensing my mood, Severio changed the subject.



"There's a lovely Temple of Eshmun on the Isla Maestus," he said. "Where the anemone blooms crimson in the spring. We'll have to visit; it's good hunting, as well. Look, Phèdre, I brought honey-cakes. Would you like to make an offering?"



His kindness touched me, and I was able to smile. A strange business, this having a suitor! I was accustomed to grand gestures from my patrons, but these homely courtesies were something altogether different. "Yes," I said. "I would."



The great statue of Asherat loomed beneath the high, pointed central dome, and it took only a glance for me to see that she was old, very old. Unlike the benign countenance of the statue on the harbor, this goddess had a wide-eyed stare. Instead of stars, a crescent moon crowned her head. She stood upright, leaping waves about her feet, her open hands touching the waters.



Brackets of candles lit the dome, and two priestesses flanked the stone altar before the goddess, attending to the sacrifice-for sacrifice it was. A commoner stood before the altar, cap in hand, and on the slab in front of him, a bound lamb.



I must have made an involuntary sound, for Severio shushed me. "We'll have to wait a moment," he murmured. "I should have warned you; I forgot, you don't have blood offerings in Terre d'Ange, do you?"



"No." I watched, horrified, as the elder priestess lifted the sacrificial knife; bright-edged and tiny, with a curving blade. The lovely, shimmering veil hid her face, but her motions were serene. I had to look away as she brought down her arm. Even so, I heard the lamb bleat once, a strangled sound.



And silence.



I didn't know I was shaking until Severio put his hands on my shoulders to still me. "Phèdre," he said gently. "I'm sorry, I made a mistake. You needn't stay. Go back to the antechamber, and the acolyte will conduct you outside. I'll meet you in just a moment, I promise. But I cannot cheat Asherat, having brought her offering."



"No," I said stubbornly, watching him blink in surprise. I don't think he knew, before that, how much will I had. I summoned a measure of composure. "I've come too, and one doesn't turn one's back on a goddess. I will go through with it."



"As you wish," he said, bewildered.



Eunuch attendants had removed the lamb's carcass-the Temple would dine on it that night, Severio told me later- but the altar still reeked of fresh blood as we approached and I could see, drawing near, traces of ancient blood blackened in the crevices. I held the honey-cake in my hands, gazing at the statue's face.



Long ago, I knew, Asherat-of-the-Sea had another name, and a consort, too; El, who ruled the sun and skies as she ruled the earth and sea. So said the most ancient of Habiru myths, the ones the Rebbe pretended did not exist. But they quarreled, and divided, and took on different names and faces, as deities have done through the ages. El became the One God, Adonai of the Habiru; he begot a son named Yeshua.



And Yeshua's blood and the tears of his mortal beloved mingled in the womb of the earth, the great Mother Goddess, who took their semidivine spark and nurtured to life Blessed Elua. If she wore in La Serenissima the face of Asherat-of-the Sea, 'twas not for me to turn away.



"Gracious Lady of the Sea," I whispered in D'Angeline, my mother tongue. "Pray accept this gift from your many-times-removed daughter, and grant me your blessing." With trembling hands, I broke the honey-cake in half and laid it on the bloody altar.



High above me, the face of the statue was unchanged, but I saw in it now somewhat different, a terrible and impassive mercy. Severio made his offering, murmuring a Caerdicci prayer. The priestesses nodded grave acceptance, and we turned to go.



"Wait." It was the elder priestess, putting out a hand to stop me. Through her veil, I saw her eyes, dark and curious, searching mine. "Some god has laid his hand upon you, child. Will you not seek the counsel of the Oracle?"



I glanced at Severio, who gave a faint shrug. "It is not wise to turn away the gifts of the goddess," he said neutrally.



So it was that we were conducted by silent eunuchs into the left-hand chamber, beneath one of the two lesser domes. It was dark and smoky, and the walls were unadorned; indeed, the chamber held naught but a stool and a table, on which lay a large, deadly-looking cleaver that filled me with apprehension. Like the altar, the table was stained a dark red, though I could not detect the stench of blood, even with eyes closed. The eunuchs set about lighting tapers, and left us. The chamber brightened somewhat and presently an ancient priestess shuffled out, carrying a simple woven basket of pomegranates.



"Some god-touched child, they say, and time to summon old Bianca," she said querulously, setting down her basket and lifting one crabbed hand toward my face. "Well, and why not, I've given counsel to a thousand and a thousand before, from altar and balcony alike, and never missed a day, except the one I had the grippe, when His Grace sought advice. Young Vesperia, she handled it well enough, they say, and why not, I trained her. Well, don't dawdle, child, let me see you!"



Belatedly, I realized that her eyes behind the light-shot silver mesh of her veil were milky and blind, and bent my face to her searching hand. Crimson-stained fingertips soft with age drifted over my features, and old Bianca grunted with satisfaction.



"D'Angeline, are you?" she asked. "No, don't tell me, I know it. Skin like a babe's arse, and the echo of a hundred fingers touched you before, men and women alike, kind and cruel, hard and soft. A rare beauty, yes? And marked, so plain even the blind can see it. Well and so; you don't belong to Asherat, but she takes an interest in all Her children, whether they like it or no. You have a question for the Gracious Lady. Choose, and I will tell Her answer.”



I hesitated, unsure of what to do. Severio was frowning, half in awe; he hadn't planned for this. I daresay it unnerved him somewhat. I hoped so, because it surely unnerved me.



"You do have a question?" the old woman asked impatiently.



"Yes, my lady," I murmured. "I wish to know-"



"Asherat! Don't tell me, child. It taints the answer." Old Bianca gestured at the basket of pomegranates, the sleeves of her blue silk robe hanging loose and voluminous on her bony arm. It was nearly a mockery, such gorgeous fabrics adorning so wizened a form. "Choose, and I will tell."



With no better guidance, I gazed at the heaped basket and selected a large, ripe fruit, its outer rind a rich maroon hue. I placed it on the table before the ancient priestess. Groping for the stool with one hand, she took up the cleaver in the other, then grasped the fruit firmly.



I am not ashamed to say that I gasped when Bianca brought down the cleaver with unexpected swiftness, the deadly blade splitting the pomegranate a mere hairsbreadth from her fingertips. And I was not alone, for I heard Severio wince involuntarily.



The old woman merely grunted again, dividing the halves and setting them upright. The deep red seeds shone in a radiating pattern against the rigid white inner pulp, as vivid as the mote of Kushiel's Dart within my left eye. Scarlet juice oozed onto the table and stained her skin anew as she read the pattern of the seeds with her questing fingertips.



"What you seek you will find," she said matter-of-factly, "in the last place you look."



I waited for more. Bianca levered the cleaver cautiously this time, divided one of the pomegranate halves into quarters. Bending it to expose the glistening ruby seeds, she lifted the quarter to her mouth beneath her veil and deftly gnawed at the tart fruit.